[ttd] happy hour | alannah

Genevieve should have stopped while she was still ahead, when the first signs of overindulgence had tinged her cheeks a pale pink and the haziness she was starting to experience was still manageable. Nevertheless, her unwillingness to lose the attention of those in her company forced her to push herself to her limits, drink after drink taken in stride as if tomorrow she would not wake up with an unbearable headache and a multitude of regrets. As usual, Effie would give her a silent but pointed look of disappointment and Genevieve would clear her schedule and nursing herself back to health with a generous helping of dessert and red wine. It is the cure to just about anything, a hangover, a broken heart, or anxiety, her mother had once declared when she was a young girl and since then, Genevieve had adhered to a similar mantra much to the chagrin of her personal maid.

The Wolf & Whistle was not her usual establishment of preference, Genevieve had never cared for pubs and their hole in the wall appeal, and with membership at one of the most exclusive whiskey bars in London, it seemed redundant to visit anywhere else. Nevertheless, it was one of her closest childhood friend’s birthdays and she had absolutely insisted the gaggle of them visit the old-fashion pub in Greenwich that had absolutely the more divine selection of wine and whiskey. The young heiress was not convinced but Isidora was one of the very few people she was willing to risk discomfort for, especially on her special day. Surprisingly, the bar was rather stylish and it’s Old World appeal interested the young witch more than she liked to admit.

Whatever complaints she might have had quickly melted away as she spotted the selection of drinks, ordering many of her favorites without thinking too much about how someone of her low tolerance would drink them all without consequence. It did not help that Isidora had no self-control and before long, the small group of them were in an uncontrollable fit of giggles over one thing or another. While sober the arrogant young woman had a tendency to turn her nose up at anything she deemed unworthy and was highly opinionated about everything, drunk Genevieve was notoriously nice. She would befriend just about anyone when she was intoxicated enough, swearing lifelong friendship with strangers in the bathroom or promising some poor soul she would owl them an personal invitation to her estate for a weekend of adventure. It was difficult to keep track of what was happening when one was having so much fun. Thankfully, always becoming this intoxicated in the company of close friends kept Genevieve safe from danger though it was safe to say that Genevieve was the more dangerous party in such situations.

But at least she felt free of the anger that had held her captive for so many years, even if only for a moment. It was freeing to be having so much fun, she decided, and though Genevieve always enjoyed being the center of attention with a group of males, being the center of attention with a group of equally attention-seeking females felt like a sort of accomplishment. Genevieve felt warm, the firewhisky, her second…or maybe her fifth shot, feeling more like a nice, fuzzy blanket enveloping her in giggles and reminding her that there was a very comfortable bed waiting for her at home.

“I really ought to get going,” she offered weakly a little after nine o’clock to which Isidora responded with more alcohol and an insistence that she dare not move an inch until the birthday girl had her fill.

Finally managing to pull herself away to go to the bathroom and adjust her appearance, Genevieve ran her hands under the cool water before bringing it to her cheeks, they were a fiery red now, the slight dizziness and inability to taste the alcohol in her cocktails only confirming that tomorrow would be difficult indeed. Reaching into her pocket for a tad of lipstick, she suddenly realized that her wand was not in it’s proper place. Patting her clothing down nervously, she was suddenly alarmed.

“Hm?” she said feeling suddenly sobered by the thought that she could not find her wand, one of the very few reminders of her mother. Panicking, Genevieve took a shaky breath as she looked around the bathroom exasperated by the possibility that she might have lost it or worst, it was stolen. Much too drunk to use any magic responsibly, Genevieve turned to the first person that entered the bathroom. The thought was devastating enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“Hi love, I’m Evie,” she said with a big, bright smile, “I absolutely do not mean to be a drag but would you be a darling and help me fetch my wand? I can’t find it anywhere,” she said suddenly, “It’s about this long and…ivory…it’s—please?” she offered instead, the intoxication making it difficult for her to explain herself.

@Alannah Dupont

Alannah was a little taken aback to be greeted immediately upon entering the ladies bathroom.  She didn't usually get chatty with girls in the bathroom and had never understood the compulsion her gender felt to do so.  The tomboy could probably count on her fingertips all of the female friends she had ever had in her life – and still have fingers to spare.  Yet it had been a friendly enough greeting and Al had shared enough beers with her mates to be feeling pleasantly fuzzy and not anywhere as defensive as she might usually be when meeting a new person.  Further still, the young woman’s plea tugged at Alannah’s natural (almost maternal) instinct to take care of people. 

“Oh shit.  That sucks!”  Al exclaimed good-naturedly but without much social grace.  Looking over Evie for moment, she couldn’t help the slight smirk that pulled at her lips.  This girl was posh!  The cut of the other woman’s clothes, the clipped and proper tone of her voice (even slurring), gave her away.  Alannah wasn’t one to judge but still wondered briefly what such a classy lady was doing in a place like this.  The poor lamb.  Adopting her friendliest smile, Al tried to be reassuring, “I’m Alannah.  Don't worry; these things happen.  We’ll find it.” 

Pulling out her own wand – simple Cedar, nothing fancy – Alannah cleared her throat and tried to speak as clearly as possible.  “Accio Evie's wand!”  She waited in anticipation but nothing happened.  Whether that was because Al was too drunk to perform the spell properly or the wand wasn't around, she didn't know.  Never one to rely too heavily on magic, she simply shrugged.  “Ok, never mind.  We’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way.”  Tucking her wand away safely in the pocket of her jeans, Al cast her eyes around the small room.  If I was a waylaid wand, where would I be? 

“You just hang tight, Evie.  I’ll take a look.”  Somewhat unsteadily, Alannah set to searching under and around the sinks, in the toilet cubicles, down on her hands and knees in all of the nooks and crannies (just in case the ivory colouring of the wand had somehow blended in against the tiles).  Alas the darn thing was nowhere to be found.  As Al jumped up, she swayed slightly and braced a hand against the counter.  “Well…”  She paused for the room to slow its spinning and then took the opportunity to wash her hands and splash a little water on her face.  “Well…” she continued again after a moment, “It doesn’t seem to be in here.”

Leaning across, she attempted to put a comforting hand on Evie’s shoulder.  “But that’s ok.  Just means we can rule this room out.”  Alannah hoped the other woman wasn’t feeling too bad.  Losing one’s wand could understandably be upsetting; most witches and wizards kept the same wand for their whole lives even passed them on to their children.  In the magical world it was like an extension of your body, a part of your identity.  However, there was no reason for her new friend to despair yet or for either of the two witches to feel helpless without magic.  “I’m not going to leave your side until we’ve found it.”  Al promised confidently.  “Any idea where we should try next?”

That sucks, the young woman considered, was an interesting way of phrasing such a circumstance however Genevieve supposed that under the rules of slang it was an expression that appropriately summed up her current situation. Her mother’s wand had been gifted to her upon her capture and subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban. With it, Genevieve felt the same sort of power that she assumed her mother must have felt, and though she had yet to kill with it, the thought that one day she would connect with her mother on such a level made it that much more difficult to part with. Of course, even intoxicated Genevieve knew that it was not becoming to speak of her mother’s imprisonment to strangers, no matter how kind they seemed to be. Giggling but not sure as to why, she nodded in agreement at the woman’s reassuring promise. “You are such a kind-hearted person, Alannah, are you aware of that? And so pretty, too,” she continued, a little unsure as to what the meaning of her statement was apart from that she wanted to say the words that came to her mind.

Genevieve looked at the woman’s wand with as much concentration as her level of intoxication allowed, intrigued by different it was to her mother’s own. The wand, legend has it, had been in the family for some time, belonging to one of the oldest relatives and only taking to Hesperia. The ivory had been engraved with acute craftsmanship, and when Genevieve had held it for the first time, her hand had gripped around the handle, and for a moment the young woman had been in complete wonder at how at home she felt with it in her hand. “Oh no!” she sighed a little more dramatically than necessary when the woman’s spell did not work, “I didn’t even think of that, you’re rather bright,” she said, before bursting into giggles once again. “The old-fashioned way?” she wondered, “Like actually look for it?” she continued. Genevieve could not remember the last time she had ever been forced to look for anything in her life. She regretted not bringing Effie to stand in the corner of the warm room so that she would be available if she ever needed anything. She did all the looking, Genevieve only ever barked orders at her to find things or risk losing her job or worse, her head.

“Thank you,” she said pleasantly, staggering to lean against the wall, her posture awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. The thoughts of the nice, fluffy pillows and the warm bed that awaited her made her whine just a little as she was overcome by the feeling that this would take an eternity and it would be days before she could return home. It was all an exaggeration of course, but in her mind, it was hard for her to concentrate on that. But she had no choice, leaving without the wand was not an option. Such a family heirloom could never be replaced, now if only her memory hadn’t failed her due to the many drinks she had ingested. When Alannah turned up empty-handed, Genevieve whined again. “I should’ve never come here, it’s too large and too full of people, and someone must have taken my wand, and now I’ll never see it again and what sort of daughter am I to ever allow such a catastrophic event to happen right under my nose!” she complained but with the way her voice slurred ever so subtly, it was difficult to take her entirely seriously.

Sighing as she felt the woman’s hand on her shoulder, Genevieve attempted to relax. “You don’t think someone took it, do you?” she asked, her eyes widened for a moment at the thought. “Should I contact the Ministry? The authorities? Will I need to give a statement to the police?” she asked in quick succession, Genevieve had always just replaced what she lost with money, the family had enough money to replace just about anything. But this was a part of her mother that she would not get back. “Should we make a big announcement? I was outside moments earlier, do you think…maybe…?” she wondered for a moment before taking the woman’s hand in hers and interlocking their fingers as she pulled her out of the bathroom. “Outside! Let’s go outside!” she exclaimed, much louder than necessary but much too drunk to care.

“Probs not stolen.”  She slurred reassuringly with a little uneven shake of her head.  Alannah was no wand expert but she was pretty sure that stealing someone’s wand was a dumb thing to do.  Given how unique wands were, they would surely be easy to trace back to their owners?  Besides, what was the saying…  The wand chooses the wizard.  They only really seemed to work best for their owners.  “I tried using a friend’s wand once,” Alannah unhelpfully reminisced, “and everything came out kind of…”  She paused for a long moment while her fuzzy mind struggled to find an appropriate adjective, “Wonky.”  Al smiled and lapsed into happy silence, having forgotten what her point was – or if she’d had one.

“Announcement?  Yeah, ok.  Sure.”  Alannah was fully prepared to climb up onto a table and address the pub patrons about the nature of their dilemma.  Yet before she could make any headway on that plan, she was being yanked along by their joined hands.  Al looked down at their intertwined fingers and briefly wondered when that had happened but wasn’t really bothered.  She let Evie pull her out of the bathroom.  Apparently the other witch had an idea of where to look and this was probably for the best, since Alannah wasn’t actually feeling articulate enough to make any pronouncements before a crowd. 

“Whoa.  Whoa.”  Al held up a hand to slow Evie down.  The 25-year-old had considered herself relatively functional but being dragged around by a panicked witch was making her head spin.  She was perhaps a little tipsier than she had first realised.  Alannah needed a moment to catch her breath and find her bearings.  Still, she was fit enough to only need a moment.  “Ok, let’s go!”  She cried out loudly after just a few seconds.  Raising one hand high in the air (the one that wasn’t being held in Evie’s anxious grip) she pointed in the direction of a nearby door.  “Outside!”  Long hair swaying with her unsteady stride, Al led the way towards the… kitchen.  That door led to the pub’s kitchen.  It was the ‘Staff Only’ sign that gave Al pause.  She stared at it in confusion and felt mildly offended that it wasn’t where she wanted to go.  Then, undeterred she simply spun around and pointed back towards a larger set of double doors.  “Outside!”  She called again with an inappropriate level of enthusiasm. 

Stepping through into a courtyard, the cold night air felt instantly refreshing after the muggy warmth of the pub.  It was quieter here too, the noise of the patrons being mostly confined within the walls.  Turning towards Evie, she smiled and squeezed her hand encouragingly.  “We can do this,” Al whispered encouragingly, “We’ll find your wand in no time.” 

“Should I…?”  Alannah drew out her wand with a flourish – staggering only once – and paused to exaggeratedly clear her throat.  “Accio Evie's wand!”  She yelled, her face scrunched up in fierce concentration.  As before, it seemed nothing was going to happen.  Al had just started to sigh in disappointment when a promising rustling noise broke out from a nearby garden bush.  Looking towards it, she squinted trying to discern shapes in the dim light.  She couldn’t tell whether there was an ivory wand in there.  It seemed just as likely that it might be some nocturnal critter, startled by their loud voices. 

A dark shape suddenly flew towards Alannah’s face.  “What?! Shit!  Shit!”  She exclaimed in alarm, while swinging an arm up wildly to block the incoming projectile (narrowly avoiding hitting Evie in the process).  Stepping back and then falling on her bum with a bump, Al laughed when she heard an indignant squawk and the flapping of wings.  Evidently it was just some kind of bird.  While she watched, it turned awkwardly and flew up into a tree where it sat and eyed the two witches angrily from a bundle of sticks.  A nest!  In the process of flipping the bird ‘The Bird’, Alannah noticed a gleam of something white tucked into the nest, contrasting brightly against its relative brownness.  “Look!  Evie, look!”  Al cried out, excitedly tapping the other woman on the closest part of her body within reach.  “Is that it?!”

went a little random with this, let me know if it doesn't work <333